Raised from Perdition
by starlight.moon.princess
Summary: It takes Castiel nearly ten years to find Dean in hell, and every day, Dean loses himself more and more. Pre-S4, slightly dark!Dean, pre-slashy


_This one's for Jess - I hope I've lived up to your expectation with this one, love! :)_

* * *

He doesn't remember why anymore.

When he had first said yes – when he had first broken – he had had a million thoughts going through his head. By then, he would have given anything to be let off the rack. Thirty years of pain at the hands of Hell's most skilled torturer – well, they definitely weren't all fun and games. But even beyond that, he had thought that he could help if it was on him. If he held the whip, maybe he could be gentler, offer the only kindness there was to offer in this place.

But now he stands over the soul of a woman who sold it at the crossroads in exchange for marrying some rich bastard, and as she screams at the touch of his whip of flames and begs when his knives of bones slowly dig into her skin and _pull_, he finds he can't remember why anymore.

The sound of her screams is so, _so_ sweet, and mercy doesn't matter. There is no mercy here, in the deep bowels of the world. There is only flame and fury, and he's the only one he has to look out for.

Here, in a world filled with more monsters than he can possibly hope to kill, he finally does something for himself, without a single thought to another.

* * *

The flames of Hell are hotter than anything he has ever experienced.

Castiel has lived for eons and experienced the worst of humanity. He has had a hand in the plagues of Egypt, even – but this, this is more than he could ever have thought could exist. He's always wondered how even a fallen angel could move so far away from their Father's plans for humanity. But if this is the place where Lucifer has been trapped in since nearly the beginning of creation – horrifyingly, he thinks he's beginning to understand his forsaken brother a bit better.

It isn't the time for existence changing revelations, however. Somewhere in the bowels of this – ironically, hell is the only word that Castiel can find to describe this place – is a man he's been charged with saving. If the angels must stop the Apocalypse, the Righteous Man is needed.

But he doesn't know what to do and how to find him. Uriel and the others told him to follow the screams, but Hell is made of nothing _but_ screams. They seem to seep into the very foundations of the place he is in, and even though he knows he's being foolish, it feels like the very bones of the earth are screaming along with Hell's denizens.

He doesn't know how to find the Righteous Man is this place, and for the first time, he's lost. Prayers to his father do not work in Hell, and he can't help but wish that it wasn't him who was given this job. He hates to fight, but he's almost certain battling demons would be easier than this.

* * *

He's been lost for nearly ten years when the pitch of the screams change. It isn't something that he'll ever be able to describe to his brothers, but when he hears them, they somehow feel different – less tortured – than the others did.

He doesn't know how, but he's certain the man he seeks is nearby. Perhaps he was wrong – maybe his father is looking after him even in this place he forsook eons ago.

Following the screams to their source is- not easy in the least. Lucifer's army has been busy fighting his garrison, and for the most part, he has been free to wander around unhindered. But as he approaches his quarry, it becomes obvious that not all of them are fending off his brothers.

He had been warned to expect their resistance – Lucifer is as aware of the Righteous Man's significance as any angel is, and he would undoubtedly be reluctant to give up any advantage he had. Even with everything he had been trained to expect, however, it still takes everything he has to kill everything standing in his way.

He knows that their deaths are a boon to the world, but their screams still resonate as he drives his sword into their hearts. And he can't help but remember the words his father handed to Moses.

He wonders if _thou shalt not kill_ applies even when the dead are demons.

But despite any reservations he might have, he knows what he has to do. The good of the many must outnumber the good of the few, even if the few refers to himself.

* * *

He knows – somewhere he can't describe, and somehow he isn't sure of, he knows – that something big is happening. Even if he hasn't been consciously aware of it, he's noticed a thinning in the number of demons who come daily to watch Dean Winchester sink to their level, and there's no other explanation for it. He presents too much of a treat for them to miss willingly.

It is only when Alistair vanishes that he realises that whatever it is, it is larger than he thought of. But by then, the whip and knives are like extensions of his hands, and he doesn't think twice before he sinks a blade into another soul, audience or not.

The screams comfort him. They're the only familiar thing anymore.

And that's when he feels a pair of arms wrap around him and _pull_.

He's never been a fan of surprise coming from behind him – even when it was just Sammy trying to hug him, he couldn't help but feel vulnerable. And whoever it is here is definitely not his younger brother.

He's spent enough time fighting that he knows some tricks demons never expect. Even Alistair, for all that he managed to defeat him into submission, didn't do so without spilling his own – whatever it was that substituted for blood in demons.

But this one, whoever it is, is stronger than anyone he's faced before. No matter how much he struggles or how often he tries to stab him, he does no damage at all.

He may have been powerless the moment his soul stepped into Hell, but he hasn't felt it until now.

* * *

"Stop struggling," a voice whispers gently. More than the surprise attack, that's what makes him start – gentleness is not a thing he's encountered in this place before.

The sheer uniqueness of the request – _request_ – is what makes him comply. Besides, he has to admit that he's curious to see who his mystery assailant is.

He definitely isn't prepared for the sight that greets him. Whoever it is isn't quite human – the almost blinding white light that surrounds his form tells him that much. In fact, he suspects that if he wasn't a soul, the light would actually _be_ blinding.

The man who is emanating the light looks- different. He isn't the kind that women find classically handsome, but there's something in his face that draws Dean to him all the same.

Before he can say anything – react in any way – he feels himself being lifted. And as soon as he realises that, it starts.

He had thought that the pain from Alistair's whips was bad. He had been wrong – that was nothing compared to what he's feeling in that moment. If it wasn't for the fact that one of the stranger's hands is clutched tightly on his left shoulder, he is certain that he would have fallen back, regardless of the fact that his other hand is wrapped around his waist.

It's an odd thought, but regardless of the pain the man is causing him, when he looks at him, he can't help remember his mother's words about angels watching over him.

* * *

Castiel slowly – and ever so gently – reconstructs the pieces of the Righteous Man's soul. He's still in shock over the fact that the first seal chaining Lucifer was broken at the mortal's hands, and he isn't proud to admit, but he had a moment's thought of leaving him behind in Hell. For all that he went through to save him, Dean Winchester is tainted now.

But – orders were orders. And even besides that, there's something about the man that calls to Castiel, something more than simply the destiny which is written on every particle of his soul.

He isn't supposed to do it, but he finds himself marking him anyway.

He will not remember Castiel once he lets go of his soul – at least, not consciously. Castiel knows this. He has always known this, and yet he finds himself regretful anyway.

He does not know why he does it. If asked, he will admit to having no explanation – but he still leans forward and kisses him.

"Be well, Dean Winchester," he whispers. "We will meet again soon.

And he lets him go.

* * *

The memories of the light are already fading, and even though he doesn't know why, he knows he's losing something important. So he clutches that memory of the warmth and safety he found in what was literally hell, and refuses to let go.

Whoever the stranger was, Dean isn't about to let him escape so easily.

* * *

**AN: So, my first update in what feels like forever. I hope you guys liked this one, and as always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out! :)**


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